


Frankie

by palateens



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Coming of Age, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 12:53:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12321471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palateens/pseuds/palateens
Summary: He’s one of the most popular guys on the team. PeopleloveFrankie, and that’s good enough for Chris.





	Frankie

Chris doesn’t have a nickname—not one he likes, anyway.

He’s so used to hearing “Christopher”, never Chris. He’s Christopher because there’s three other boys with his name in class. One of them gets called Chrissy because he’s cute and girls like him. One of them gets called Christian. Chris Moore gets to be Chris. He doesn’t have to change his name, or even use the first initial of his name. Moore gets to be Chris while Chris Chow is known as Christopher in class. He’s known as “son” and “meanie pants” at home.

He plays hockey. Nicknames are different there. For a while he goes by Topher, which makes him more confused when he goes between class and practice. It’s a mess. He doesn’t feel like himself when he’s outside his house.

He starts high school. It’s private and the hockey team is one of the top ranking school teams in the country. The first day of preseason, upperclassmen are jumping at the chance to dub the freshman with their new nicknames.

When they get to Chris, he feels twelve sets of eyes on him. They’re all probably wondering what weird name he has. He can already hear the Karate Kid chirps. He’s heard them all before. No one who thinks subtle racism is hilarious is really that creative.

Before they can give him shit or figure out what to do with Christopher (probably Tofu or something) or Chow (he doesn’t even want to know), he speaks up.

“My friends call me Frank,” he lies.

Because his middle name is Franklin, and some people go by their middle names. Because maybe this is exactly what he needs, a fresh start where no one thinks of him as a kid.

So he starts responding to Frankie. When the term starts and teachers do roll call, he corrects everyone single one of them.

“I go by Frankie,” Chris says with an easy smile.

People like Frankie. Frankie’s a chill skater dude who sneaks out late with his friends and hangs out at 7Eleven until management kicks them out. Frankie goes to Berkeley on weekends to comb through old records and t-shirts. Frankie does body shots off cute girls at parties.

He’s one of the most popular guys on the team. People _love_ Frankie, and that’s good enough for Chris.

He keeps it up for as long as he can. It’s a wild ride that seems to be good to be true.

Frankie dates the captain of the poms team who’s also in debate. Her name is Vanessa Ramirez, and she has a nice smile. He almost likes the way Frankie rolls off her lips like molten chocolate.

He makes out with her in his dorm bed after lights out. His suite mates are at the bar in town that doesn't card. Kyle gave him a wink as they rolled out saying 'go get 'em Tiger'.

She calls him Frankie in a raspy voice. His team calls him Frankie. Most of his friends know him as Frankie or sometimes (when they’re being assholes or he’s a little drunk) they call him Frank. Like he’s somehow more mature and impressive just because he can do splits during a kegstand.

His sister starts calling him Frankie. He doesn’t know where she got it from, but he sighs in relief every time she does. It helps their parents stare at him less. They come to accept it. Because teenagers are rebellious, and often reinvent themselves. Frankie is just part of a phase, they murmur quietly while washing dishes in the other room.

Chris pulls the strings on his hoodie a little tighter, shielding himself from their commentary.

When he doesn't feel like dealing with older white women who assume his name is incomprehensible (at least to them) he says 'my name is Frankie'.

He’s Frankie when teachers threaten detention, and he’s Frankie when he secretly aces his English midterm. Teachers don’t care what they call him, as long as he goofs off less to impress his classmates.

Chris isn't sure anyone knows his real name here. He isn't sure if they never bothered to learn it or if Frankie rolls off the tongue better. If it's dipped in enough grit and psuedo-masculinity to make people forget he isn't white. He's never been white. He honestly wouldn't prefer to be white. But Frankie gets him the right type of attention.

Frankie’s a charmer, a ladies’ man. Frankie is flexible and courageous, the fiercest goalie this prep school has ever seen. He’s on the strongest baddest sports team. He got the girl. He has friends.

Frankie is a mask Chris puts on every morning, and only takes off in the last seconds before bed.

And then one day, late in senior year, he decides that he’s tired. Tired of being abrasive and stand offish when all he wants is to play some hockey, and have good friends who care about him.

Frankie goes to Boston for a weekend to see his parents’ alma mater. He finds out that a short Vietnamese girl can be team manager, a gay dude from the south can be a starting forward, and guys from prep schools in Boston are probably queer. He learns he can be anyone he wants to be in college, and doesn’t have to do a fucking thing to please them. Frankie doesn’t come back.

The next Monday, he starts correcting people.

“My name’s Chris,” he says.

People are shocked and confused people at first. There’s only a month left of school, so most people don’t bother to stop calling him Frankie.

He keeps correcting them.

Chris thinks going to Samwell is the best thing he can do for himself. It’s on the other side of the country, away from everyone and everything he’s known for the last fifteen years. Samwell is where he first learned to skate. It’s where he learned what love and hockey were all about. Walking around the campus, he got so many moments of perfect clarity. Moments that made him think:

_I remember this, it was awesome._

He goes to his first college practice with an open mind and an open heart. He’s dreading nicknames. But whatever happens, he can’t be Frankie. Not anymore.

Somehow, they think of something worse than Tofu and dub him Chowder. He snorts under his breath before they start pinching his cheeks. It’s a new chapter, he might as well get used to it.

Chris doesn’t love being Chowder. Chowder doesn’t get the respect he deserves because “goalies are weird” and he’s too excitable and agreeable.

He has to stop himself from telling a few people to fuck off. Because Chowder is a nice kid. Because Chowder just wants to slink into the background and not rock the boat. He wants to be everything Frankie wasn’t.

Something still feels wrong though. It still feels like he’s living day to day, trying to fit a mold that was cut out for him. He only feels like himself, like fucking Christopher Franklin Chow, when he’s playing.

“There’s the kid we know and love, and then there’s the motherfucker between the poles,” Shitty says once.

Chris smirks to himself. It’s the first time anyone’s really noticed. It feels gratifying in ways he can’t fully describe.

He makes friends with Lardo, who has quiet talks with him in the reading room about being Asian American and trying to be a good kid for her parents but also trying to figure out herself.

“I just—wish they saw me and not some imaginary potential, you know?”

“Kind of,” Chris says, "my parents are great. But…”

“But?”

“I wish everyone else would see me, not my nickname.”

Lardo nods, drawing her knees into her chest. She takes another hit of joint before passing it to Chris. He inhales slowly, missing home and his childhood friends (the ones always thought of him as Chris) with a dull throb in his chest.

“If you hate Chowder so much, we can change it,” she says finally. “I hated Lardo at first too. It grew on me But like, that doesn’t mean you have to.”

Chris nods, taking another inhale.

“I don’t know who Chowder is,” Chris admits. “Maybe I’ll like him.”

Lardo chuckles. “You talk about all your nicknames like that?”

“Yea,” he says. “I hated Frankie.”

“Why?”

“He was nothing like the real me, but everyone loved Frankie.”

He thinks Lardo isn’t one for huge speeches or pep talks. So hopefully he’ll escape that bullshit today. Except, high Lardo is cuddly and expressive. She hugs him tightly. He hugs back, feeling a knot in his throat.

He’s thousands of miles from home, in the first home he ever knew. His friends are still new, and he has no idea who he is. He isn’t even sure he likes himself.

“Hey,” Lardo says after a few minutes of hugging him fiercely.

“Yea?” he rasps.

“I love Chris Chow,” she whispers fiercely. “He’s fucking amazing.”

Chris grins. “Thanks, I love Larissa Duan.”

“Yea?”

“Yea, she’s my best friend.”

It’s the first time Chris sees her smile. Really smile, not smirk in triumph or vindication. It’s broad, a little awkward, and bigger than life. She’s so soothing and helpful. Anyone would be lucky to have her in their lives.

Chris tells her as much. She laughs, nudging him gently.

“Sure,” she agrees reluctantly.

She doesn’t believe him, but it’s ok.

Chowder has a long time to convince Lardo that she’s amazing, just the way she is.


End file.
